


Sibling Stuff

by Higgystar



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dixon Brothers, Gen, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from tumblr: Merle and Daryl are siblings that the rest of the group really can never understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sibling Stuff

There were a lot of things that the group just didn’t get about them. Daryl liked to think it was because he and Merle were on another level above the rest of them, but in reality he knew they had just lived lives far too different from the norm to be ignored. So they got the stares from the rest of the group when they argued, they got cringes when they brought home squirrel for food and they dealt with the looks they got when they were abrasive. But this is something Daryl never thought he’d have to explain to anyone else.

“Get off me!”

“No.”

Honestly he’d not even done anything really, Merle was just an asshole. His brother was a stuck up son of a bitch for being as common as muck, and he did not like to be proven wrong. So when he’d started mouthing off when skinning the days catch of rabbits and commenting on how much neater his technique was compared to his brother’s, really he should have expected some kind of comeuppance. Really it was skinning rabbits, it wasn’t nothing special but he’d had to go and run his mouth, telling Merle how much better he was than him, pointing out how much quicker he was and how his rabbits didn’t look like they’d been chewed up on neither.  

It had snapped whatever last strand of patience Merle had had with him, and before he knew it they were fighting, physically this time. Rolling about in the dirt of the camp, not hitting but more shoving, each of them trying to get the upper hand and pin the other one. It’s partly serious, but mostly fun, something they’re used to, a part of them being siblings that they’ve always done. So Daryl barely thinks as they laugh together, him huffing out how he was still better than Merle, Merle calling him a little shit and the two of them scuffling until Merle pulls the same move that Daryl always falls for.

His feet are hooked out from beneath him, sending him crashing to the ground face first, coughing into the dirt and rubbing at his eyes as Merle moves to declare his victory. It’s stupid, such a simple thing between them, but damn if Daryl doesn’t still hate it after all these years.

Merle sits on him.

Not too gently either, but properly pinning him to the ground and practically throwing his whole weight behind the move. Merle presses his head further into the dirt, plonking his ass on Daryl’s back, just behind his shoulders and using him as a seat. It’s the perfect spot to keep him down, leaving him unable to get either his legs or feet beneath himself and keeping him unable to take a full breath.

At first Daryl laughs it off, because that’s what he always did. Merle had won yet again and he was even unable to struggle for freedom due to his position. Groaning a little he lets his body flop properly to the ground, taking a few moments to relax and catch his breath as best he could. “Alright Merle, you win.” He huffs, trying to glance over his shoulder to his brother.

“Damn right I win.” Merle grunts, legs propped out before himself as he rests the majority of his weight on his younger brother. Daryl can feel every pound and it wasn’t as if Merle wasn’t a big guy. His brother had some weight on him anyway and being crushed by it was damned uncomfortable and left him vulnerable easily. “Thought you’d have learnt your lesson over the years boy.”

Daryl tries to reach up to swat at him, never one to give up easily but acknowledging the loss. He always lost to Merle and this was always the way that Merle proved his superiority. Honestly he didn’t think it was fair for Merle to claiming himself the victor just because he had a fatter ass, but he was pinned and those were the universal rules of a fight.

The camp around them had been fairly empty, people getting washed up for dinner and passing the time they all now had by doing not much of anything. Now though people were beginning to gather and Daryl wasn’t particularly in the mood to deal with them seeing him as a loser.

“Lemme up Merle.” He wheezes, air caught in his throat and trying to wriggle his way out from beneath his brother’s bulk.

Merle tuts, tongue clucking against his teeth as he shakes his head, and Daryl can feel the shift in his weight when Merle moves to lean back a little, to really bear down on him even more. “I don’t think so little brother, you started this. You want up, you get your own way up.”

“Merle you know I can’t when your fat ass is on top of me.” Daryl complains, used to this position but not a fan of it. Sure they squabbled all the time, and sometime he even got the upper hand, but he always hated when it ended like this.

Above him Merle shrugs, snatching up a twig from the floor and tossing it into the campfire, as if he’s settled in for the evening. “Looks like you’re stuck there then. Fine by me, comfier seat than those fuckin’ logs anyhow.” His brother muses and Daryl can’t help but grumble in annoyance over it all.

Sure Merle usually won their battles, but he always hated when it would end like this. When he was younger it had been even worse, when Merle had had not only a decade of experience over him, but at least double Daryl’s weight too. He remembers once being pinned and sat on for a good couple of hours when he’d been smaller, not even ten yet and sat on by his brother while Merle had watched a movie. Daryl had only managed to get free because their dad had come home and snapped at them over something that got them moving to their room and relinquishing their control of the TV set.

Over the years sitting on him had still stayed Merle’s favourite form of torture, a sign of victory and a way of keeping his little brother under his control. Sure maybe it was funny in some ways, but stuck beneath Merle’s fat ass was not how he wanted to spend the next few hours at the end of the world. Digging his palms into the ground he tries to shove hard enough to get some leverage and wriggle himself free, but Merle simply shoves back enough to keep him down.

It’s no good, so squirming a little more he reaches up to swat at Merle’s side, giving a small whine when he speaks. “Merle I can’t breathe.” Sometimes playing the sympathy card would work. Not often, but sometimes, when Merle would remember being yelled at for being too rough with his baby brother years ago and recall all the accidental bruises caused over the years.

Merle doesn’t fall for it, chuckling a little above him and Daryl knows he’s got that shit eating grin on his face. “You can breathe just fine if you can complain. Pussy.” And Merle even rocks his body a little to piss him off even more.

“This ain’t fair!” Daryl growls, all sense of wanting sympathy forgotten and now the anger is back and he hates being the younger brother. Merle was a stubborn asshole and Daryl knew that if he didn’t get out of this soon then before long they’d have the whole group watching and laughing at him. Those people just wouldn’t get it. He could already imagine the looks on their faces now.

“Life ain’t fair little brother, you need to learn that lesson properly.” Merle tells him, shifting enough to pull out and light a cigarette. Daryl can’t help but pout a little as he’s unable to get one of his own, instead his last pack is being crushed beneath both his own and Merle’s combined weights. Probably nothing more than crumpled tobacco by now.

He can hear footsteps coming up from around them. Those that had been on top of the RV and ignoring them were probably coming down, getting ready to eat as a big group and share out their minimal rations between them all. People were starting to gather and it didn’t look as if Merle was going to let him up anytime soon. Squirming a little harder he tries in vain to get free, able to feel when Merle simply chuckles from on top of him.

“You’re a son of a bitch.” He huffs out eventually, only able to fold his arms to rest his chin on top of them, trying to make himself at least a little more comfortable if he was going to be stuck in this position.

Merle, the condescending prick that he is, has the gall to reach down to pat his head as if he were a dog, and Daryl quickly shakes his hand off his head. “I know.” His brother agrees, probably smiling, all cocky as Daryl sees the other people they’re forced to live with looking at them curiously as they reach the camp.

It’s the kid, the young boy, the one that has mad it quite clear that he ain’t the prick cop’s kid even if the man was screwing his mother, that says something first. He’s smiling, looking at the pair of them with humour and Daryl thinks that maybe it’s kind of nice to see the kid looking happy for once instead of constantly scared. “What’re you guys doing?” Carl asks, bright, young, innocent and curious as his mother comes to join him.

Lori looks equally confused and for once doesn’t scold her son for annoying the big bad rough looking rednecks, but instead simply cocks her head in their direction, looking as if she’s waiting for an answer herself.

“Merle’s a bully is what’s happening.” Daryl scowls, feeling a fool from his position, pinned to the ground with Merle on top of him. The kid laughs and even Lori smiles at his whining tone.

Merle snorts out a laugh before replying. “Ain’t no bully. You wanted a fight and you lost, now take your punishment like a man and hush up baby brother.” Fingers yet again pet at his hair and this time when Daryl shakes him off and tries to look up to him, Merle instead offers a puff on his cigarette. Daryl takes it gratefully, but still isn’t pleased with his position.

Blowing out a stream of smoke lightly he doesn’t even squirm anymore, instead slumping back to his pillowed arms and watching as the rest of the group settle around them with bright smiles and a few questions of their own. “You boys fighting again?” Dale asks, T-Dog and Glenn at his side and smirking, with the women in a group nearby and clucking like hens over their immature behaviour.

Daryl rolls his eyes and buries his head easily, ignoring the looks and the laughter, but actually kind of enjoying the sounds of life around them. It’s not something heard very often these days.

“Just sibling stuff old man.” Merle answers from above him, leaning back a little and Daryl is grateful as the bulk of Merle’s weight shifts position. He might be able to take it, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like heck after a while. Again Merle leans his way, tapping at the back of his head before offering the last puff on the cigarette to him. Daryl takes it and finds himself smirking as Merle continues. “You wouldn’t understand even if I explained it to you. ‘s just sibling stuff is all.”

Beneath his brother Daryl has to agree, there’s no way that anybody would understand this. To be honest he’s not sure if he’d want them to. Because despite all the shit they’ve been through and the lack of ability to breathe properly, this felt normal. Even after the end of the world, having Merle fight with him and sit on top of him afterwards was in its own weird way, kind of comforting.

Besides, nobody ever understood the Dixons anyway.


End file.
